


Hypnos

by dontmindme_imafangirl



Series: Our Song [3]
Category: The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flashbacks, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Modern Era, Rebirth, War, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-05-04 13:09:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14593707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontmindme_imafangirl/pseuds/dontmindme_imafangirl
Summary: They say that the past has a way of catching up to you.Achilles knows that far too well.(Part 3 of Our Song)





	Hypnos

**Author's Note:**

> Translation notes found at the end :)

*****

Gold and purple, purple and gold.  
There’s a heaviness on his head, wrapping around his temples, and a burden on his chest and shoulders yet he feels no discomfort. He’s standing tall, taller than he ever did, his hand fitting comfortably around the shaft of his weapon, his loud voice granting cheers and yells from left and right.

He plunges the spear in his hand through the first chest plate he sees and he _smiles_ , the feeling of flesh tearing, the crimson spurting out lacing around the sound of ribs cracking as he pulls it out.  
He looks at the blood on the sharp point, takes in the copper smell and the sweat, the disgruntling stuffiness of the battlefield, of being surrounded by bodies, alive, dead, and all the in-betweens.  
This is what he’s used to. What he’s _born_ for.

The smell of war.

His hand is drenched, his spears swirling like waves across shore, each movement poised as if practiced, and Achilles knows; he knows each step of his is a silent threat, each flick of his wrist lethal. He sees it in the way their eyes widen before blood spurts from their lips, he sees it in the way they look to their bellies, seeing their own insides ripped by his hand, and then they turn to him, their eyes now colder, the heat of their skin stolen by Hades’s creatures, the taste of death like nectar on their lips.

He’s used to this. He keeps going, on and on and on, until his pale skin is reddened, until his heels ache, until his muscles tense and become sore, but no, there’s still more, one more person left standing across him in the field of death, their back turned to him, kneeling in between corpses as if mourning the loss. The loss of who? Achilles didn’t know. With the way their head bobbed left and right, he presumed they mourned for anyone and everyone.

He approached the leaning figure, slowly, his voice brimming with confidence when he next spoke.

“You’re mourning for soldiers? Men who willingly sought out war and put their lives on the line?” He questioned. 

He was standing right behind the figure, his grip on his spear tightening. 

“It’s a waste of mourning, what you’re doing. You’re mourning those that chose death themselves.”

With that, he raised his spear, sliding it through their back easily, effortlessly, like pushing it through their spine until its hilt, and oh, so beautifully it went, the man unarmed, uncovered, a bare back meeting the tip and seeping crimson the moment it made contact with the dark flesh of theirs.

The body turns to him, the pair of eyes he adorned looking to him, looking through him, taking in the despair and his guttural scream when he realised who his spear had pierced.

He fell on his knees, cradling the fading boy in his arms, drowning his ears in sobs.

A hand came to rest on his cheek, leaving bloodied handprints in its wake.

“I mourn for them because I knew them. I mourn for them because they’re dead. I mourn for them because for each of them, their absence will be noticed, and they will be mourned by families, by lovers who currently don’t know wether to mourn or pray to the gods for their safe return.”

Patroclus coughed, blood erupting from his lips.

“And I mourn for you. For the man I loved before the Fates took him away from me.”

Achilles saw the last of life drain from him, and he weeped, begged, pleaded with the gods, offered his own life, his pride, his everything in return for the return of his beloved.

The gods did not answer.

****

He woke with a scream trapped in his throat, his chest heaving, sweat falling from his head and down his neck, pooling in the cusps of his collarbones. 

He looked to his hands, clenched and unclenched his fists, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room.  
No blood. 

There’s a shuffle besides him, and soon enough a hand on his back, rubbing soothing circles, lips on the nape of his neck despite the sweat dripping to his back.

“It’s okay. You’re okay, it’s all alright now…” whispered the lips on his back, the words forming on his skin, like a mantra.

He closed his eyes and breathed, shifting to look to Pat, to take in his face, his face flush with life, his eyes blinking, his lips smiling, alive, he’s alive, and he’s here.

“How could you possibly forgive me? With all I did, with what I did /to you…why-“

Pat cut him off, bringing a hand to his cheek, just like his dream-his nightmare, only this palm was warm, a steady pulse felt on the juncture where the hand met his wrist, feeling the drumming of it on his jaw.

“There was never anything to forgive. I loved you, in sickness or in health, I loved you for the way you’d smile at me, for the way you cared, for the person you were. And even when madness consumed you, I loved you for I knew you were just a victim of the gods. And even in your pride and fear, you loved me. And I loved you.”

Pat knocked their foreheads together, Achilles’s hand reaching up to interlace with his.

“Σ’αγαπούσα, σε αγαπώ, και θα συνεχίσω να σε αγαπώ.”

Achilles breathed in each word, kissed him for every whisper.

“Δε μου αξίζεις.”

“Σου αξίζω, και μου αξίζεις. Οι μοίρες μας γεννηθήκαν δεμμένες κόμπο η μία με την άλλη.”

“You said once that the gods tricked us. That we earned this second chance-this second life.”

Pat nodded.

“Do you still think so? Even with all I’ve done? With all the blood on my hands?”

Patroclus paused, a small smile playing on his lips, thoughtful even.

“You earned it for the tears you shed when burning the corpses of each fallen soldier. For each time you woke in the night, when you clasped my hand and thought of the dead men. You earned it for Vriseis, for helping me help her, for helping all the other women whose fate would’ve been different if not for you.”

Achilles felt his eyes burn, tried to wipe the tears away before they came with the base of his palm but Pat caught his arm in time, tugging it down gently, coaxing him into letting the tears fall freely, openly between them.

“You have done wrong. But you have also done right. And now you have another chance, another life. You’re the same man but you’re also not.”

“Then who am I?”

Pat shrugged.

“That’s your decision to make.”

They talked more, about anything and everything, about this, this, and that. They lay with each other in their arms, talked until daylight, until the chirping of birds lulled them both to sleep.

Achilles didn’t dream.  
He could’ve sworn, that he heart a trickle of a voice nudging his head, like a gentle whisper in a familiar voice, before sleep overtook him.

“Το δικαιούσε. Το έχεις κερδίσει. Ζήσε.”

****

**Author's Note:**

> TRANSLATION NOTES
> 
> “Σ’αγαπούσα, σε αγαπώ, και θα συνεχίσω να σε αγαπώ.” - I loved you, I love you, and I will continue to love you.
> 
> “Δε μου αξίζεις.” - I don't deserve you (Fun fact this actually directly translates to "I am not deserving of you")
> 
> “Σου αξίζω, και μου αξίζεις. Οι μοίρες μας γεννηθήκαν δεμμένες κόμπο η μία με την άλλη.” - You deserve me, and I deserve you. Our fates were born tied to one another like a knot.
> 
> “Το δικαιούσε. Το έχεις κερδίσει. Ζήσε. - You deserve this. You've earned it. Live. (Second fun fact, while it translates to 'deserve' too, it's actually a different word being used here, that means the same but fits more in the context of 'you have a right to this')
> 
> Look....I'm sorry for the amount of greek in there but I saw an opprotunity to sneak my native language into a fanfic and I just took it *shrug* I hope it's not too bothersome! I'd like to try doing this in more TSOA fics, but if you feel it bothers the flow of the story let me know :) I just love the idea of them speaking modern greek in the Modern era, mainly bc i suck at ancient greek and could never incorperate that into the fic LOL
> 
> Also-i know some themes are repeated in this fic that were mentioned in my first fic too. That's just to drive home the point that these two are reborn, but have full knowledge of their past and are both unsure of the whys and hows. From now on I'll be getting more into this AU, but will try and allow each fic to be read independantly! I hope you enjoy this nontheless. 
> 
> Also...any guesses to who spoke to Achilles in that last bit? ;) leave a comment below with your lucky guess!
> 
> And.......look forward to more familiar faces soon~
> 
> P.S.1: Feel free to shoot me a message on tumblr (mothgane.tumblr.com) or send a prompt!  
> P.S.2: Updates may be slow because uni work is taking its toll on me, but please know that I absoloutely will not abandon this series!   
> P.S.3: I am. v tired and didn't proof read this so sorry for any grammar/context mistakes, ill come back to check them at a later time!


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